Six Fifteen
by Shelliebelle
Summary: Usagi is eighteen and desperately in love with Mamoru, who has been avoiding her for months...will their confrontation make or break their fragile relationship?


Six fifteen. Mamoru flicked the curtains back, ignoring his blaring alarm clock. The sun was just rising over the horizon, painting the cityscape in delicate pink hues. And a familiar blonde was just rounding the corner, jogging steadily down the street on which Mamoru's apartment was located. Eighteen stories up, and he could still see that her long blonde hair was bound up in a ponytail, swishing softly as she jogged. 

He muttered a few harsh words, yanking on some old, faded jeans and a pair of sneakers. He forewent the usual jacket, not wanting to waste time.

The elevator was empty this early in the morning, a small blessing in Mamoru's opinion, as his hair was disorderly and he was in desperate need of a shave. He stepped into the lobby, striding quickly across the patterned carpet, and out the door. The cold November air gave him pause, goose bumps skittering across his bare arms. He folded his arms resolutely, scowling as she came into view just down the street. She hadn't seen him yet, it seemed, and she paused at the usual lamppost, panting as she regained her breath. Then she turned, looking up at the huge building. He knew she was looking for his apartment.

She stretched like a cat, arching her back with a sigh, and moved as if to continue on her way, but at last her eyes met his. She couldn't have been more surprised to see him standing there than if he had declared himself the Queen of England, he mused thoughtfully. Her pretty blue eyes were dark with the shock, and a delicate blush stole over her cheeks.

"I…" her voice was strained. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I was just going for a jog," she explained, sidling a little closer.

"You don't jog. Maybe you make a mad dash somewhere every once in a while. But you don't jog." He knew he looked stern, arms folded and scowling at her, but to relax around her would be tantamount to suicide.

"I do now," she said defensively, lifting her chin. She folded her arms in definite mockery of his pose, and unintentionally drew his attention to her attire.

"What the hell are you wearing, Usagi? It's damn near fifty degrees out here." He was trying to shock her with his crassness, and they both new it. That proud chin tilted up even more.

"It's just a jogging outfit," she said. He didn't like her parading around in a sports-bra and sweatpants. Especially not when they left close to a foot of bare skin visible around her midriff.

"It's dangerous," he said frankly. "Don't wear it out again. If I had a jacket with me, you'd damn well be wearing it right now."

"I wouldn't wear that ugly old jacket if you paid me," she scoffed, and they both new she was lying. She would take anything he would give her. "Anyway, you're just as bad," she said, gesturing to his thin tank top.

"I'm fine. I'll be going in shortly, anyway. You're still three miles away from home."

"One," she corrected blithely, studying her fingernails. "I started college two months ago. I live on campus with Minako."

"Is that so?" He shifted uncomfortably. He'd been so busy avoiding her these past few months that he was only now realizing he'd missed some very special occasions. "I didn't know."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," she said bitterly.

"Usagi," he said softly, uncrossing his arms long enough to drag his fingers through his unkempt hair. "I'm years too old for you. It's better this way. I'm twenty-five."

"And I'm eighteen, now," she replied. "Perfectly legal. Or hadn't you noticed?"

He did now. Oh, god, he noticed. He noticed everything about her. Always.

"Seven years," he tried again, "is a lot. It's a big difference, Usagi."

"Has it occurred to you that I might not have cared?" Her voice trembled a little as she spoke. "Has it occurred that maybe I loved you? Maybe I would have done anything, waited any amount of time, gone to any lengths just to be near you? No!" She skirted his hands, dancing just away when he reached for her. "Don't touch me!"

He withdrew, shocked at her vehemence. She was white and shaking.

"I would have done anything for you, for your love," she said. Her eyes were tragic in her pale face.

"You're young," he said, as if it were all the explanation he needed.

"I was fifteen when I fell in love with you, Mamoru. You indulged me until I was seventeen, and then, six months ago, you cut me out of your life completely. What happened?" Her expression shifted from tragic to furious in seconds. "Did I get too close? Is that when you decided that I was too close for comfort, and you stopped seeing me as a kid sister and started seeing me as a woman?"

She was right, and she'd struck a nerve, but he'd have died before he admitted it. He shrugged noncommittally, as though he didn't particularly care what she thought of him. She threw up her hands in disgust.

"I'm sick of this," she said. "I'm sick of investing so much of myself in you only to have you cut and run when things start getting serious! So help me, Mamoru, I don't care if I never see you again!"

He caught her when she would have stormed past him, one hand on her arm, one around her bare stomach, pulling her back against him.

"Liar," he said softly, breathing in the soft floral scent of her shampoo. "You'd die if you could never see me again, don't think I don't know it." She shivered, sweat cooling on her back in the brisk air.

"Stop," she said, pushing at his arm. "Don't touch me if it doesn't mean anything to you. I don't want anything to do with you anymore."

"Then why do you keep coming around my apartment? Every morning at six fifteen for months, Usagi, did you think you could be this close to me and I wouldn't know it? Six fifteen every morning, I get up and look out the window, and there you are. You just can't stay away from me." He hadn't meant to get so close to her, but he didn't regret it. It would probably be the last time he had so near her.

She shoved away from him, glaring for all she was worth.

"I get the picture," she said, moving a safe distance away. "I'll find a new jogging route."

"Good," he said, leaning against the lamppost she'd recently abandoned. "Now get out of here, little girl. I'm out of your league."

"I'm not a child!" she cried angrily. He loved the spark in those lovely eyes; he always had.

"You're not a woman, either, so stop propositioning me." He shoved away from the lamppost, striding back towards the building, laughing with dark humor.

"I hate you," she shouted after him. "I wouldn't have you fried on a stick!"

"Liar!" he taunted again, disappearing inside the building.

Usagi shrieked her frustration. She took a few shallow breaths, seething with rage. How dare he make a mockery of her feelings! She was shaking like a leaf, angry and confused by him. For months he'd avoided her, gave every impression that he didn't care about her at all. He ignored her birthday, her high school graduation, her acceptance to college…and yet now it seemed almost as though he was suffering their distance every bit as much as she was.

Shaking her head to clear her muddled thoughts, she turned and continued her path, jogging down the street and out of sight.

--

Things were peaceful for Mamoru for a few days after that incident. Usagi had stopped jogging by his apartment, and he felt her absence more than he'd thought he would. It almost hurt him that she'd listened to his harsh words and started staying away. He thought she had more spirit than that.

Her absence in those next days affected him strongly. Even though he hadn't spoken to her in more than six months, before that day, she had been a steadying, thought silent, presence in his life. Without her, his world shook on its axis, threatening to tip Mamoru right off the face of the Earth.

He wished to god that he'd had some booze in his apartment somewhere – anything to settle his frazzled nerves. But his cupboards were empty, and he hadn't even kept the bottle of cooking sherry he'd had when he moved in. Resolutely, he shrugged into his jacket – the one Usagi had said was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen – and went out for a drink or two at the local bar.

It was a busy night, being a Friday. Since his last visit, the pool tables had been switched out for a dance floor, populated by a loud, scantily-dressed hoard of college students. Mamoru had no desire to dance, so he slid onto a barstool and ordered a whiskey. Even as he tossed it back, his eyes narrowed at the sight of a familiar face. Wincing as the liquid burned his throat, he slid the glass back over and ordered another. He had a feeling he was going to need some liquid courage to tackle this problem tonight. Emptying his second glass, he threw some money on the counter and headed into the crowd of dancing co-eds. He weaved through them, pressing to the back of the large group and catching Usagi's shoulder gently. She turned, smiling.

"Oh, hello, Mamoru," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I should be asking you. Usagi, you're only eighteen," he said.

"Eighteen's the lower limit for this club, Mamoru," she informed him blithely. "Want to dance?"

He scowled. "No, thank you," he said firmly. He scowled harder as he surveyed the skimpy dress she was wearing. "Are you trying to get picked up, or something?"

She stared back defiantly. "So what if I am? You've made it perfectly clear that you're not available. What do you care if I find someone who's actually interested in me?"

For an instant, he looked like he was going to say something. But he turned away quickly, heading back to the bar. He sat there and drank for the better part of an hour. Usagi watched him pour back drink after drink, glaring at her from across the crowded room.

For all that Mamoru was doing everything he could to make her leave, short of throwing her over his shoulder himself, she had a good time. She flirted for all she was worth with a nice, blonde man that went to her college, even if it was all just to get to Mamoru. From the sour look on his face, it looked quite a bit like he cared an awful lot who Usagi expressed an interest in.

By the time she was ready to leave, Mamoru looked like he'd had a few too many whiskeys. Usagi stopped by the bar on her way out.

"I just thought you'd like to know that I'm leaving," she said, giggling at the murderous expression on his face.

"You'd better not be taking off with some guy," he said harshly. His words were slurred, and Usagi sighed.

"How much have you had to drink tonight?" she asked softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Not nearly enough," he replied. He paid his tab, stumbling off the stool. Usagi helped right him, pulling his arm over her shoulders to keep him upright.

"Oh, Mamoru. Why on Earth did you drink so much? You can't even walk straight. Here, I'll help you home," she said, guiding him out the door.

"You wear that tiny little dress here, looking for all the world like you want to take home a guy or two, and you ask me why I'm drinking? I can get home myself, Usagi, so knock it off. It's only a few blocks." He tried to pull away from her, but he was drunk and she was determined.

"I'd let you go if you weren't falling down drunk. With my luck, you'd fall down in the street and get yourself hit by a car. I don't particularly want your death on my conscience, you stupid man, so shut up and let me take you home," Usagi grumbled.

Mamoru laughed at her little speech, kissing the top of her head affectionately. Usagi stiffened at the fleeting gesture.

"Don't do that," she said, looking away from him as she led him through the lobby and into the elevator. She dug in his pocket for the keys, fumbling with the lock as he stroked his hand down her back. The door swung open, and she kicked it closed behind them, leading Mamoru into his bedroom. She tugged the jacket off his shoulders and pushed him down on the bed. He hit the bed with a grunt, smiling as she untied his shoes, pulling them off his feet, and moving on to his socks. Her deft fingers unzipped his jeans, tugging them off his legs.

"Somehow," he began wickedly, "this is not quite what I had in mind when I imagined you taking off my pants."

He grinned as her face flushed becomingly. She pulled off his shirt roughly, slinging it over a nearby chair.

"Go to sleep," she ordered.

"Aren't you even going to get me glass of water and put a couple of aspirin on the nightstand? I think I'm going to need them in the morning," he said.

"No one's fault but your own," Usagi said unsympathetically. But she brought them anyway.

"No," Mamoru said heavily, sinking back against the pillows. "It's your fault, Usagi."

She had just set down the water and aspirin when hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her down right over his bare chest. She struggled briefly, before she realized that he was only stroking her hair.

"Mamoru," she said tightly, "let go of me."

"No," he said petulantly. "You smell nice." He pressed his face against the graceful curve of her neck, and she gasped when he planted a kiss there. His fingers caressed her face, her neck, her shoulders.

"You're too young for me," he whispered, feathering his mouth over hers.

"I hate you," she whispered tearfully.

"You love me," he said smugly.

"Damn you," she spat, tearing herself away from him. She was breathing hard and fast. "I hate what I feel for you! I hate you for trying to take advantage of it!"

"What?" He sat up, still dizzy. "Usagi, I wasn't…"

She turned and ran, slamming the door behind her.

"Damn." Mamoru stood. The room spun crazily, and he gave up, sinking back onto the bed. He reached for the phone, fumbling with the numbers. He got it right on the third try, and Minako picked up.

"Minako-san? It's Chiba Mamoru. Can you pick Usagi up? She went running out of my place a minute ago. I'd go get her myself, but I'm a little too drunk to be able to catch up with her. It's a long story, I'll tell you later. Call me back when you've go her, will you? Thanks." He hung up and slid under the covers.

--

Usagi slowed her frantic pace as soon as she emerged in the lobby of Mamoru's apartment. Logic told her that Mamoru wouldn't be coming after her. She exited the building, heading down the street towards the dorm she lived in. A little red car pulled up next to her, and Minako called her name.

"Thanks," Usagi said, sliding into the passenger seat. "You're my hero."

"Don't thank me," Minako said, looking her over curiously, "Mamoru called and asked me to come get you. He was worried about you. He said he couldn't come get you himself, or he would have."

"That," Usagi huffed, "is because he practically drunk himself into a stupor. He made a pass at me."

Minako's eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Is that so," she said softly, reaching for her cell phone. "I thought that was what you want, Usagi."

Usagi shook her head. "I wanted him to love me," she said. "Now he just thinks I'm easy."

"Oh, Usagi. I'm sure he doesn't think that at all," Minako soothed. She dialed a number, and Mamoru picked up on the first ring. "Hello, Mamoru? Yes, I've got her." Minako's gaze flickered over Usagi's tense frame. "He wants to talk to you," Minako said.

"Tell him to go to hell," Usagi said stiffly. Sighing, Minako relayed the message. She laughed at his response, said something about talking to him later, and hung up the phone.

"I think Mamoru is very much attracted to you and fighting it something fierce," Minako said gently. "He's years older than you, and he probably feels it by now."

"I love him," Usagi said simply. "I love him so much it hurts, and he'll never love me back. So I'll just have to get over him." She squared her shoulders, determined to erase Mamoru from her heart.

Minako parked her little car, and she and Usagi entered the dorm, walking up to the room in silence. Usagi immediately set about ridding herself of everything that she'd collected to remind her of Mamoru. She shoved it all into a big plastic bag and lugged it out to the dumpster.

Then she went back to the room, where Minako was waiting, watching a sappy romantic comedy, threw herself into Minako's sympathetic arms, and cried.

--

The phone rang shrilly in Mamoru's ear, and he reached blindly for the glass of water and aspirin that Usagi had left the night before. He swallowed the aspirin, then grabbed the phone.

"Hello," he croaked.

"You sound like death," Minako chirped brightly. "I thought you might like to know that Usagi spent last night throwing out everything she had that reminded her of you and crying."

"What?" Mamoru asked.

"Oh, don't worry. I dragged it all back in after she fell asleep. She'll want it back someday, I expect," Minako continued blithely.

"What are you talking about?" Mamoru rubbed his hand over his eyes, bleary and still not quite awake.

"Mamoru, Usagi's determined to give up on you. She thinks you don't love her." Minako said in frustration.

"She's just a baby," Mamoru replied.

"But you love her," Minako said. "Why do you keep letting her think you don't? She's eighteen, Mamoru. She's more than capable of making her own decisions. If you love her, why do you keep pushing her away? You're taking her own choice away from her and making you both miserable."

"I'm twenty-five," he said. "I'm too old for her. She wouldn't want to be stuck with me. Not when she can go out and party and meet someone her own age."

"Then why not let _her_ decide that? Mamoru, as far as I can remember, all Usagi's ever wanted was you. You could make her so happy. But you've only ever given her pain."

"How do you know, Minako? How do you know that she won't get bored with me? How do you know it's not just puppy love? How am I supposed to take a chance like that? If she were ever mine, I couldn't bear to let her go." It was more than he'd ever admitted to anyone before.

"I just _know_," she said. "Call it a gift. I called you because I thought you might want one last chance at happiness. Decide quickly whether or not you want her, because if you let this go much longer, she'll be unreachable. It'll be hard enough to get her to listen to you, now."

"Of course I want her," Mamoru said. "But I can't just…"

"Yes, you _can_ just. You don't owe anyone any explanations. Usagi loves you. You love Usagi. What else is there?" Minako clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"She won't let me get close to her now," Mamoru sighed. "I messed it all up royally."

"You just leave that to me. Usagi's my best friend, Mamoru, so you'd better not mess this up any more than you already have. I'll be in touch." She hung up, smiling brightly as Usagi entered the room, toweling off her wet hair, having just gotten out of the shower.

"Who was that?" Usagi asked.

"Oh, no one," Minako studied her nails intently. "I was thinking. This guy from Physics is throwing a party tonight at his apartment. Want to go with me?"

"Sure, I guess," Usagi replied.

"Wear something pretty. I'm inviting a guy that you'll just love," Minako said, smiling at her private joke.

--

Usagi looked beautiful that night. Of course, Mamoru always thought she looked beautiful. But her long hair was pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail, and she was wearing a form-fitting pair of jeans with a soft, pearly pink sweater, and she had just the right amount of lip-gloss on to make her soft lips shine.

She didn't notice him at first. She was talking to the same young man she'd been dancing with at the club the night before. She laughed at something he'd said, and Mamoru decided he'd had just about enough of seeing the kid flirt with her. He strode across the room, stopping just a few paces from the two of them.

The cup in Usagi's hand trembled dangerously when she noticed him, as though she might drop it. Her companion immediately noticed the tension between the two, and wisely excused himself. Mamoru moved closer, occupying the space the other man had just been standing in. He looked down at the cup Usagi was holding suspiciously, and gently removed it from her grasp.

"You," he began, taking a long swig from the cup, "are not old enough to drink alcohol."

She snatched the cup back, defiantly gulping down the rest. He watched her, smiling wryly.

"You," she responded angrily, "are too old to be coming to college parties." She tossed the plastic cup at his chest, but he caught it in the air. They glared at each other until Minako came by, offering them both drinks.

"Don't encourage her," he snapped at a hastily retreating Minako. Usagi smiled sweetly at Mamoru, taking another big drink. She didn't like the taste, but she enjoyed making Mamoru as angry as he was making her. She finished the drink too quickly, and would have moved on to Mamoru's, had he not had an inkling of her intentions and set his drink far out of her reach. She set her cup down on a table, and tried to move away from him too quickly. The room spun. And suddenly, Mamoru's arms were around her, lifting her into his arms.

"I knew this was going to happen," he sighed, weaving through the crowd, moving towards the door. Minako fluttered her fingers at them from across the room, and Mamoru nodded back, indicating her was taking Usagi away. "I suppose it's my turn to look after you. God knows you can't hold your liquor. Have you ever had that much before?"

Usagi tried to shake her head, but it just fell back against his shoulder. "No," she said, closing her eyes. "I don't really like the taste."

"Well, you've done it, now," he said. "Don't drink at parties if you don't know how it's going to effect you. You could get yourself into a dangerous situation."

He was setting her down, Usagi realized. Mamoru went around the car, sliding into the driver's seat. He reached over her to grab her seatbelt and buckle it securely.

"Do you have your keys?"

"Yes," Usagi dug them out of her pocket and dropped them into Mamoru's waiting hand. It was a short drive back to her dorm, and Mamoru parked in the visitor's lot. Usagi tried to get out of the car on her own and would have been rewarded for her efforts with a face full of dirt if Mamoru hadn't been so quick.

"Steady, now," he said.

"You don't have to carry me," she protested, flustered at being so close to him.

"Sure I do," he said, ignoring her feeble protest. "You're not nearly as steady on your feet as you should be. Besides, you're none too graceful normally, and I'd hate to have to explain to your parents that you accidentally fell off a bridge because you were drinking underage and had too much pride to accept a little help."

"There aren't any bridges around here," she replied.

"Besides the point." He shifted her briefly while he fumbled with the lock on the door. He didn't bother with the light switch. He simply placed her keys on her desk and dropped her on her bed. She bounced, gasping in surprise at the sudden fall.

"You pushed me. Deal with it," he said. "Where're your nightclothes?"

"Third drawer," she said, "in the right-hand set of drawers." He rummaged through it until he found something he liked, and tossed it to her. The soft cloth hit her in the face. She pulled it off, glaring at him.

"You'd think you could be a little nicer," she complained.

"Why? You're not sick, you're drunk. And it's your own fault," he taunted. "Now get dressed. Unless you want me to do it for you," he suggested wickedly.

"Of course not, you lecherous old man," she gasped. He went into the bathroom while she wriggled out of her clothes and into the nightgown that he'd chosen for her. When she was securely under the covers, he emerged from the bathroom with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin, which he laid on the nightstand near her bed. Her head was swimming, but he made her sit up and drink half the glass of water.

"Thank you for taking me home," she said, lying back. His hand smoothed over her forehead, brushing back her bangs. "You can go, now, if you want. I'm sure you've got better things to do than to baby sit me."

His expression turned dark and brooding for a second. All at once he was the enigmatic man he'd been years ago, when she'd first met him. Even after all these years, he was still a bit a mystery.

"Why were you at that party, anyway?" She whispered. His lips twisted up in a wry smile.

"Why do you think? Minako called me."

"But why did you come? Surely a college party wouldn't hold much interest to you," she said.

"Why wouldn't it, if you were there?" He asked. Usagi laughed nervously.

"Funny," she responded.

"I'm not joking." He leaned forward, brushing his lips across hers. Her breath escaped on a sob, and she pushed him away.

"Why do you keep doing this to me," she cried. "I'm trying to stay away from you, I really am. Can't you just let me get over you?" His hands soothed, stroking her back, her hair.

"I don't want you to get over me, Usako. I love you," he said. His lips caressed her cheek and brushed softly over her closed eyelids. A steady stream of tears slid down her cheeks, and her lips pursed to contain the cry of sorrow that her throat ached with.

"Don't. Please, please don't." She curled on her side, away from him. He slid onto the bed beside her, laying his head beside hers on the pillow, rubbing the tension from her shoulders with a strong hand.

"Don't cry, Usako, please," he said softly. Her shoulders shook, and he turned her towards him. She came, still dizzy from the alcohol in her system. He pulled her towards him, settling her wet face against his shoulder, and sliding one of his legs over both of hers. He slid an arm over her waist, pressing firmly against her back until her body fit neatly against his. She was wrapped up against him protectively, and he kept her there while she cried out her frustration and anger and helplessness.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, when she was quiet again. "I'm sorry I made you so miserable. I'll make it up to you, I promise, if you'll just give me a chance. I was so stupid, Usako. I told myself you were too young to commit to a relationship, but really I was afraid that you'd find someone else better than me, someone who deserved you. I thought that it would be easier to let you go if I never had you to begin with."

"You stupid, stupid man," she said against his throat, beating a small fist against his chest. "Don't you know that I love you? Don't you know that I'd die just to be with you for a day?"

"I do now," he said, kissing her forehead. "Minako talked some sense into me. She said I could very well lose you forever if I didn't do something. She said you'd thrown out everything that reminded you of me."

"I did," she said softly, "I regretted it in the morning, but I couldn't do anything about it by then."

"Minako waited until you were asleep and then dragged it all out of the trash," he said. "I think it's in her closet somewhere."

"Oh, wonderful," she sighed. "I never thought I'd see any of it again. I could cry."

"Please don't," he looked shocked. "There's been enough crying tonight, thank you very much."

He held her very tightly for a moment, and Usagi savored the feel of him holding her so securely in his arms. But just a moment later he was moving away from the bed.

"Won't you stay, please?" Usagi asked, holding his hand in hers, afraid she might wake up from some beautiful dream.

"I can't. Can't you just imagine Minako's face, if she were to come back and find me still here?" Mamoru grinned, brushing his lips haphazardly across hers.

"Come see me tomorrow morning, if you're still of this mind," he said.

"Of course I will be," she said immediately, but he stilled her words with a few fingers against her lips.

"You're not sober," he said, "and that lowers your inhibitions. For all I know you could be saying things you'd rather not. Things you might regret tomorrow. If you wake up tomorrow and you still want me, I'll be waiting for you."

"I love you," she said simply, holding his fingers to her lips. "Please stay. Just until I fall asleep."

He gave in gracefully, sitting at her bedside, stroking his fingers through her soft hair until her eyelashes brushed her smooth cheeks and her breath sighed out evenly. She was beautiful, her hand curled in his so trustingly. He brushed his knuckles across her soft cheek, and kissed her soft hair. Then he stood and walked silently out the door, locking it behind him.

--

Six fifteen rolled around slowly, and Mamoru hadn't slept at all. Resolutely, determined to accept whichever answer Usagi was going to give him, he moved to the window and flicked back the curtains. The sun slid over the horizon, blindingly bright for a moment. He waited for what seemed only a few moments, before he realized that the minutes had crept by so that it was now nearly six thirty. With a defeated sigh, he let the curtain fall and reentered his bedroom.

He took a shower, shaved, and dressed, though his heart wasn't in anything he did. Usagi had given him her answer, and he would have to accept that. He consoled himself with the thought that somewhere, in some time, Usagi had loved him. She had loved him last night in those unguarded moments. That would be enough for him. He would make it be enough. He shrugged into his green jacket, preparing to go down to the coffee shop on the corner.

He opened the door and started in surprise. Usagi stood, poised to knock, staring at him as if she were equally in shock. Her face was pale, but she smiled brilliantly at him. If Mamoru had had any doubts as to whether or not Usagi still loved him, they were gone in an instant.

"Sorry I'm late," she grinned sheepishly, as he yanked her into his arms. "Headache, you know."


End file.
